As you get older, things are not always as you remember ‘em. If you remember ‘em at all! That was the topic of conversation last week when the Women Who Run With the Moose got together for our regular girls night out. Betty was hosting, and she was serving these watermelon margaritas, which, to be honest, are kind of an acquired taste. Luckily, after half a glass, you don’t really care! Plus, they’re garnished with melon balls, so they qualify as a fruit, right? Celeste says, “Remember how I told you that Bud and me were thinking about buying a couple of bikes? You know, it was something we used to do as teenagers, ride …

 “Vacationland.” That’s what it says on our Maine license plate, and it’s true. There are plenty of fun things to do here, year round. We encourage folks from away to come and spend time in the great outdoors, enjoy the sights, eat the local delicacies, drink Moxie, buy stuff. We are willing to share our beautiful State with you, but please remember: be nice to us locals! The sign says “Maine: the way life should be”, not “Just like New Jersey, only prettier.” We’re only half way through July, and us folks here in Mahoosuc Mills are already dangerously close to reaching our limit in the “being nice to rude people” department. Working down to …

You know how we tend to confide in our hairdresser or bartender? As a cashier down to the A&P, folks tend to confide in me, too, even if they don’t always know they’re doing it. Because checking out a person’s groceries is more intimate than you image. You know who’s drinking a little too much, who has a Doritos habit and who’s addicted to the National Inquirer. You see the same folks once a week, minimum, and you can kind of sense whether they’re feeling their oats or not. So I’m working register 3 per usual, cashing out Roberta “Bobbie” Robbins, making conversation, like you do. “How’s that cute little dog of yours? Blah, blah. …

I’m one of those folks who capture wasps, spiders and even stinkbugs and set them free outside. It’s just how I roll. Charlie’s gets all riled up by squirrels on the bird feeders, but I figure if they’re smart enough to get to the food, let them have a little reward. I like watching the groundhog family in our yard ’round dinner time and this year we have a little gray fox. Ants in the house cross the line, and I do put out those little ant traps. But whatever happens with that happens outta my sight, so it doesn’t seem that bad, right? But there’s something about mice in the kitchen that just doesn’t …

Up ‘til the economy tanked, “staycation” wasn’t even a word. There’s a reason for that. See how only half the word resembles “vacation”? That’s a hint as to the outcome of most staycations. At best, they’re kind of like a vacation. At worse, they’re more like a week spent in the Gulag. Charlie and me learned this the hard way a few years back. We’d never taken a staycation, so we thought we’d give it a try. We even made a plan, well kind of. We’d scrape and repaint the deck the first weekend,  because it needed it wicked bad. Then we’d spend the rest of the week doing little day trips, you know, makin’ …